Cycle
by Yellowfur
Summary: School is an endless cycle of hate and insults. And these characters are here to act out for you a time a lot of us wish we could forget. Various cartoon characters used, rated T for the occassional swear words and a couple drug references.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the cartoons used within. This is usually the part where people start screaming.**

**This "two-shot" is inspired by the comic book collection _Stuck in the Middle: Seventeen Comics From an Unpleasant Age_ (which I highly recommend to all of you who know how much middle school sucks). **

**If you are not familiar with the book, then I'll let you know what this story's about. It has your favorite characters, going through the same thing you went through or are going through right now. By that, I mean I simply put them in a middle school/high school environment.**

**There are swear words in this, just like in real schools, and there will be a few references to drugs or drug usage... just like in real schools.**

**And I'd also like to thank dannyfangirl for also giving me the idea to write a school fic, and for generously letting me make my own "toons in a school" fic. Hers is worth a look, by the way.**

**Like I said, it's a "two-shot", so it will only have two chapters. I already have it planned out, so sorry, I won't be able to do character (or insult) requests. It is separated into multiple sections by words you may have heard before.**

* * *

**LOSER**

"Have a good day, dear!"

_Pfft. Yeah, right. _"Thanks, mom. Bye!" Danny forced a smile and waved off his mother. She sped off in their oversized steel-sided van, equipped with all sorts of freakish gadgets.

He walked on the sidewalk, keeping a close eye on his standard sneakers. _Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Come on, steps! _He was longing for the steps that lead him to the doorway of the school. Once he was inside, he was safe until it was time to go to second period. Keeping his blue eyes on the gray asphalt and his red-and-white sneakers, he relied on his ears to tell him what was going on.

"So, are you going to help us egg the new kids tonight at the game?"

"O.M.G., I ah-dore your vest! Is it an Astrud?"

"Look at him. Does he think I don't _see_ him putting his hands on her?!"

"That would make a good band name,"

"You coming to the water polo meeting tonight?"

"Dude, I'm sooo messed up. That stuff you gave me was screwed."

"Hey, loser!"

The last line made Danny quicken his pace enough to get him to Point B faster but not fast enough to be noticed.

"I said, hey _loser_!"

_Rightleftrightleft-_

"Danny!"

That one was a new voice, and Danny was more than relieved to hear it. He looked up to see the smiling face of his girlfriend/best friend, Sam.

"Bell rings in four minutes. You coming?" She cautiously eyed the scene around him, silencing whoever was trailing him a minute ago.

"Definitely!" Danny said, walking up steps and through the heavy black doors into school. Stepping on the plastic floors, he inhaled the smell of school: slight traces of whatever teens slathered on their bodies to make their scents appealing and that _je ne sais quoi_ that school hallways carry in the air. Black, white, and gray lockers lined the walls, some lockers had stickers, and some had colored locks that flaunted themselves in front of the old, gray, possibly rusty school-issued locks: in cobalt blue, deep black, chrome-covered, shocking green and pink, ballet pink. Doors were scattered across the light, almost white gray walls of the school, most with windows or a sign next to the door advertising the teacher inside. Every once in a while, one would come across flyers advertising a fundraiser, a contest, the school play, and various clubs.

Sam must've noticed the aggravated look on Danny's face. "People giving you shit again?"

"I don't know why some people insist! Every day!" Danny gestured about in front of him, moving his hands to express his frustration. "I don't go out of my way to make enemies! Where do these people come from anyway?"

"They're everywhere, Danny," Sam's face was also lined with as much hate as dark makeup, but her hate was deeper, more subtle. "This school is a cycle of hate. Everyone hates each other. You can feel it in the air."

Danny sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He and Sam reached his locker, at the end of the first hallway on the first floor, which was where his third and seventh period were, as was his locker (convenient, eh? Danny considers it the best thing about his ninth grade year). Their school was indeed a hateful solution: a high school and middle school combined ("best idea since indoor fountains with water dyed the state's colors at the mall" the city planners said). So, Danny was lucky that even though he was at typical "Freshman" age, being a "Freshie" was _so_ three years ago. Now he's just a loser. Being a NEW loser? _That_ would be even more hellish.

After grabbing his Psychology and Songfic textbooks, he headed back towards the front of the hallway, where his and Sam's first period (_an Advanced Placement class, ugh_) resided. A few feet from the door, he was about to walk in when he saw an unbelievably short kid stumble into the hallway. A few outcast girls, who were sitting off to the sides, snickered into their off-colored hoodies and sushi- or fruit-shaped accessories.

The spiky-haired blonde kid was unable to see through the armload of school stuff that he carried. Four textbooks, three notebooks, three binders, and a brown paper lunch bag obscured his view. With a squeaky voice, he spoke up from behind the Leaning Tower of Stuff. "Hey, is that AP Economics? Can someone open the door for me are we going to wait for my arms to be crushed to a bloody pulp?"

"Yeah, I got it…" Danny stared. What else could he do? Seeing the backpack straps on his chest, _What,_ he thought, _is so important to this kid that he must keep it in his backpack and carry all his other crap in his arms?_

"Thanks," He turned into the class (bumping into the door a bit), turning so Danny could get a good look at the kid's backpack.

And sticking out of it was an _orange and black stuffed tiger_.

Fumble.

The books went to the floor, the pencils skidding, the lunch sliding, the binders stumbling. The heaviest textbook, with ink marring the cover, landed right on Danny's toe.

"OUCH! KID!" Danny shouted, grabbing his foot as the girls off to the side laughed. Sam helped the kid pick up his Fallen Pile of Stuff.

Danny bit his lip to keep from telling the kid off, right there. He didn't need this, not on such a cruddy morning! With those other jerks from Gym bothering him before school even started, and now someone he tried to help (hello, holding the door open?) crushing his foot… _great, just freaking great. There's Karma for you, right?!_

The bell rang, echoing through the nearly empty hallways. The kid walked inside, the outcast girls stalked off.

Danny grimaced and ran a hand through his thick black mop of hair, staring with Sam at the kid, his backpack, and the animal inside. "What a weirdo."

**WEIRDO**

Calvin scowled. Had that kid, who he knew nearly nothing about and who knew nearly nothing about _him_, who was only three years older than him and probably a lot less smart, just called him a weirdo?

_Impossible._

Calvin took his seat at the far left back corner of the classroom. Posters with population and daily wage statistics lined the wall. Calvin left his stuff in a pile next to his desk and carefully put his backpack next to his chair.

_I'M the weirdo? Sure, just suffocate Hobbes. Right. _I'm_ weird. I don't take some sort of sick joy in slowly killing animals. So weird._

The other kid walked in and sat in the farthest seat away from Calvin. His friend took a seat next to him. Calvin kept his eye on the once-white markerboard, stained a rainy day sky gray with years' worth of writing as other kids slowly trickled in until twenty-five of the thirty desks were occupied with tired, 8:30 AM heads slouching over hands that weren't twitching with the effects of the morning coffee yet. Of course, Calvin was a seventh-grader in a class full of much older kids. Was there even a twelfth-grader or two? Probably.

Before the last bell rang, there was a frantic clinking noise. A girl ran in just as the bell rang throughout the hallways and classroom. She closed the door behind her, blocking out the dozens of clomp-shuffles of late students running to get to class. With another chorus of clinking noises, she made her way to the front of the class, to the teacher.

"Mr. Iruka? Hi, I'm Jenny Wakeman. I'm new. Am I in Advanced Placement Economics?"

"Yes you are, Jenny. Take a seat wherever you want to while I take role. I'll fill you in on what's going on afterwards, alright?" He smiled in a welcoming way; his morning coffee obviously had already kicked in a while ago.

Jenny took a seat next to Calvin, who scrutinized her from head to toe, not caring if she noticed. She was… metal. A metal girl, with turquoise pigtails, a turquoise piece of metal on her metal torso and another on her metal hips that were trying so hard to be a top and miniskirt. She also had turquoise metal… feet-boot-thingies. _I want feet-boot-thingies. I wonder if Mom will buy some for me._

Calvin instantly liked the girl. And he never liked girls! She was so different, so nonhuman, so out-of-the-ordinary… of course, in his school, there were ninjas and ghost boys and magical girls and pirates, but a robot! NEW!

He continued staring at her. _She's so… alien! So unfamiliar, uncommon. It's weird! _

Without noticing, as the teacher blathered on with role and two preppy girls in pastel polos in front of them giggled and whispered noisily, Calvin accidentally said out loud, "Alien…"

Of course, in Calvin's books this was a compliment. But she had no way of knowing that…

**ALIEN**

Jenny tried to keep as focused as she could on the teacher. But she was experiencing technical difficulties. She knew her mother said that people wouldn't know what to think of her; they would make fun of her, whisper about her, exclude her. She was warned. But Jenny didn't think the first person who would fully look her over would have the nerve to just blatantly insult her out loud.

_Alien! Seriously! _

When the teacher came over to Jenny to explain what they were doing in that class and what they were doing so far, Jenny nodded, smiled and put her hearing sensors on autopilot so they could retain the information as she let her thoughts run.

_Is that what everybody will do? Right in front of everybody else? I knew I would be called something like that anyways, but… first hour?! _

Now Iruka was giving her a paper explaining class rules and the class syllabus.

_Should I go to second hour?! What if the same thing happens?! What if this kid next to me has the same hour I do and he tells everyone how much of an 'alien' I am?!_

Now Iruka was talking about how he thinks Jenny came at sort of an awkward time, the start of November, but thinks she will be able to fit in nicely since it was the beginning of a new semester and how this class may seem intimidating with the workload, but wasn't that hard once you get the schedule down.

_I mean, what kind of insult is that anyway? ALIEN? ME? They have weirder kids here! Mom said there were actually kids here who ARE from Irk and Tamaran! And I'm the alien?! I'm PROGRAMMED like a teenager! Irkens have no puberty!_

Then Iruka walked away. He proceeded to talk about problems between population and economy and who's screwed up and why, and which of the screwed up countries can get out of it and which are _royally_ screwed. After that, he explained a chart in their textbooks, and then passed out their weekly assignments.

Then the bell, which sounded suspiciously like "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" rang out. Jenny wasted no time in hurrying out of the classroom to her next class, Honors Parody 1.

As kids poured out of the classrooms and the hallways began to swarm with armies of students similar to teeming groups of ants, Jenny passed by one brown-haired boy with a silly pink hat. He opened up a letter on a pink piece of paper and read the big, cursive handwriting, inviting the receiver to meet her after school for a big confession and a big surprise, ending with a 'Trixie Tang' signature and 'X's, 'O's, hearts and a star.

Out the corner of her eyes, Jenny caught the boy's face: a lovesick smile. Jenny's mind flooded with a combination of irritation data and resentment data, with a small bit of pity data mixed in.

_Duh. That's not a girl's handwriting. _Her robotic mind was able to see the handwriting and realize that the pattern was consistent with examples of a male adolescent trying to write like examples of a female adolescent's handwriting. _Somebody's playing a cruel trick on that kid. Are people going to do that to me?! Oh well, they'll have to better than that! What a stupid kid! What fake handwriting!_

"Sucker," Jenny mumbled aloud as she clomp-clinked past.

**SUCKER**

Timmy rolled his eyes at whoever just walked by and called him a sucker. Though he doesn't understand why they chose 'sucker' as their choice of insult, he just figured they were jealous that the most popular girl in school, who he's been crushing on since fourth grade, has finally realized how cool he is.

This wasn't the result of fairy godparents. This was just him. All him. His natural charm was finally apparent to Trixie.

Trixie was abandoning the stupid popular guys. In this school, Timmy was not part of the total outcasts, but he was a still a good two or three rungs below the popular kids, preps, surfers/skaters, ninjas and jocks on the social ladder, probably ranking just below the set of rebels who rebelled against the most popular set of rebels. Trixie finally decided to look down to see who was holding the bottom, apparently. And, good for Timmy, she found someone above the very bottom.

She found HIM.

Timmy walked through the halls, pocketing the letter with care. Second hour was not usually his favorite class, but it sure was now!

On the way, Timmy saw a gaggle of varying teenage bodies. They weren't moving and were all bunched in a tight circle, leaving a space in the middle big enough for about two people. Which could only mean one thing…

_FIGHT. Awesome!_

Timmy hurried over, eager to see that random display of violence among his peers. He was even happier to see that it was two girls. Popular, too.

One was a girl with a very light blonde ponytail reaching down her back over sexy navy clothing. She was facing a girl in a red dress with bubblegum pink hair and a tear-streaked but furious face, her green eyes shifting left and right over the blonde girls' face (who currently had her back to Timmy). "What's your PROBLEM, Ino?! I think there's something WRONG with you!"

Ino huffed and shook her head, seemingly not letting herself get too worked up (just to annoy the other) but still letting frustration show. "Really, Sakura. I can see why he doesn't want you anyway! You're a total drama queen!"

"What's going on?" Timmy asked a short, pale girl with a weird dark blue haircut and a black and purple outfit in front of him.

She ignored him, only tried to pound on whoever's back was in front of her so she could get a better look.

"What are they fighting about?" He tried again.

She turned and scowled at him, but didn't answer him, obviously only turning to let him know she acknowledged his existence.

"Screw you, then," Timmy walked to another side. _Go figure. _He reached an oversized yellow-blonde kid in a cowboy hat. _Pituitary problem, much? _"Hey, what's going on? What are they fighting about?"

He tipped his hat. "I reckon it's got somethin' to do with boys,"

Timmy saw a clearing in the mob and peered at the fight, now having a good side view of both girls. Everyone around ignored the second bell as if it was a mere fly buzzing around their heads, and it had nothing to do with them getting detention.

"I'M THE DRAMA QUEEN?" Sakura put her hand on her heart and had resorted to shrieking. "RIGHT, INO! Like I'm _nawt_ the one who spent fifth hour CRYING IN THE BATHROOM JUST LAST WEEK over Shikamaru!"

"Right, like you were there, bitch! And like no one's seen you cry because Sasuke doesn't like you and you're in denial!"

"What else did you do while you were in there last week? Write your name on a few bathroom walls?! 'For a good time, call Ino Yamanaka at 555-SERVICE-U'!"

While other kids laughed and called out choruses of 'What now, Ino?', Ino just smirked and put her hand on her hip. "At least I can rightfully say I'm a good time!"

"YOU CAN ALSO RIGHTFULLY SAY YOU'RE A SLUT!" Sakura's face turned the color of her dress.

The last bell rang. A few kids started to leave the circle. Timmy, determined to make this class-delaying moment last, decided blatant cruelty, just this once, was worth it to get the girls to start fighting.

He said, in a voice only slightly louder than normal, "Slut… slut… slut…" in a slow, steady chant. Then he picked up volume and speed as a couple stubble-decorated twelfth-grade boys next to him chanted with him. Then a couple outcast girls. Then more kids. Then more.

"Slut! Slut! Slut! Slut!"

**SLUT**

Ino held her hands out in a 'what-the-hell!' kind of way. _Weren't these people just on my side a minute ago?! No way! What the hell is wrong with them?! _

Sakura grinned and looked proudly at the cheering crowd, crossing her pale arms across her nearly nonexistent chest.

_She is not getting away with this. Look at her smiling._

Time for an impulse-powered moment.

_Let me wipe that off your face for you, Sakura._

Ino's fist connected with Sakura's perfect little nose. Sakura yelped and stumbled back, holding her nose, which began to birth blood.

Sakura's face tightened. She looked more furious than before. She clenched her fists. But before she could raise them to throw a punch, a teacher's voice interrupted her. "YAMANAKA!"

_Oh shit._

----------

Ino sighed and looked around the room. Her feet were planted on the boring gray desk she was sitting at, her chair tipping back and elevating the front two shiny steel legs off the aged linoleum. The walls were white and poster-barren.

"The desk is not a footstool, young lady!"

Ino sighed again and took her feet off the desk at Mrs. Knickerbocker's request. The silver beehive-haired woman peered at Ino in her constant disapproving fashion over the tops of her small glasses.

_Ring. _Ino scowled, slouching over her desk and crossing her arms over her chest. _Ring, damn you._

_Too late. _Knickerbocker went into a grating lecture to Ino on how their school strongly disapproves fighting, how it demotes violence and encourages finding solutions verbally in a calm manner, how she came close to getting expelled, and how lucky she was that two weeks of detention was the most she was getting, and how she was only getting that little because the only other times Ino got punished were for a couple of dress code violations. She also said something else, but Ino did _truly_ find the paper airplane some random hyper kid with orange hair and buck teeth was making MORE interesting.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star… _FINALLY. _Ino murmured her goodbyes to Mrs. Knickerbocker and pushed her way out of the detention room as fast as she could, making tracks for the cafeteria. No doubt Sakura had Tenten and Hinata in the bathroom comforting her (_Stupid crybaby_ _bitch_), which left Temari and Kin, who both had no patience for crying girls and who she didn't mind eating with.

Ino reached her locker outside the front door of the school, opening the door with a frustrated mumble after having to do the lock five times (after two months of being in school). Still grumbling swears, she shoved two humongous textbooks into the locker and yanked out her Algebra 2 textbook and binder for her Constructive Criticism course.

She could see the blue sky of the day too good for this godforsaken school. She loved the blue skies; they matched her eye color perfectly, and she always pointed this out to whoever she thought was remotely interested and a good percentage of people who weren't.

"Excuse me?"

_DAMMITDAMMITDAMMITI'MHUNGRY. _Ino forced a smile in case it was a girl with a cute older brother. She turned around and saw a young-looking (sixth or seventh grade) Hawaiian girl. She was cute… not all that pretty, but had a look about her. Ino wasn't too into her flip-flops but thought her red Hawaiian tropical print dress was cute, but would be even cuter with a slightly shorter cut. However, this didn't change the fact that this girl was delaying Ino from finding solace in the crowded cafeteria. The hallways weren't COMPLETELY empty! There was a group of goth kids sitting RIGHT THERE! Why didn't she talk to them? They're not going anywhere anytime soon! _Except for a therapist's office, hopefully!_

"I need to find my next hour class. This is my first day here. The hallways are complicated and not all the rooms are in the right hallways… can you help me?"

Ino resisted a grunt of pure frustration. _WHAT THE HELL! _Why was this girl asking her, anyway? Doesn't she understand that she just came back from the most boring detention that the Demon of Boredom could possibly conjure up?! For, in Ino's opinion, simply defending herself after being bitched out by Little Miss Smartypants?! And now she was late to lunch! What if Tayuya took her spot, forcing her to sit next to Sakon and the other weird ones Tayuya traveled with?!

"What hallway is 9-109B in?"

"I don't know, new girl! Ask someone else!" Ino turned on her heels and made her way out the door, knowing with a pang of guilt that she was being mean but decided to care about it later.

* * *


End file.
